


Share The Unlit Place With Me

by cookinguptales



Category: Sleep No More - Punchdrunk
Genre: Gen, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookinguptales/pseuds/cookinguptales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times during the year when the boundaries between the natural and supernatural realms are weak, but time doesn't mean much to the Porter anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share The Unlit Place With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> Since this is a treat for a Trick or Treat exchange, I tried to squeeze in some period/setting compliant Halloween festivities. The title is from Robert Frost's poem ["Ghost House"](http://poetry.about.com/od/poemsbytitleg/l/blfrostghosthouse.htm). _I know not who these mute folk are / Who share the unlit place with me._
> 
> I've never written for SNM before, so I'm afraid this writing is a bit experimental. lionessvalenti, I do hope you enjoy your treat regardless.

Back before he had gotten this job, before he wiped down the same counter every night (pushing around the dust that would never fully leave), before endless rows of keys to nowhere, before the murders and the intrigue playing out in their sinister, unbreakable loop, before he became a plaything for things greater and lesser than he was--back before all that, he had heard the tales about All Hallows' Eve. He knew the way that spirits were said to be out, frolicking in the flickering turnip lantern light. But he’d never believed it. Not until witches reached through his chest to grasp and paw at his heart, not until he’d been trapped in this mad dance of blood and magic, hurtling through a night that never, ever seemed to end.

Nowadays, he knew the spirits were there, with him, all the time. He could see them out of the corners of his eyes, and when he looked in the mirror, he could see them looking back at him, hollow eyes set deep and dark in their pale faces. Ghastly. They watched him, hungry for something that he could not yet name, and he could feel them flutter around him like soundless vultures waiting for their prey to stop twitching. The joke was on them, though. He knew that he'd never be able to stop going through these motions.

Some days he found himself wracking his brain for more of the stories. Was it possible to be trapped in the spirit world with them? What happened if the lanterns went dark? Just what power over the mortal realm did witches hold? Moreover, he wondered, silently observing the fey beings that staggered in and out of his lobby, what power held them?

He knew that guising was said to confuse spirits long enough to escape, but he'd been wearing guise after guise for so long that he scarcely knew what his own face was anymore. They all had. Masks and costumes and secrets layered beneath lies, and none of them, not one, had managed to save any of them. If anything, he thought maybe they were all losing more and more of themselves with each new mask they donned. A little more of their thoughts. A little more of their personalities. A little more of their souls. Maybe soon there would be nothing left and they would be just like the ghosts. Hungry. Waiting. Watching.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!


End file.
